Heart Sounds
by Jordan Trevor
Summary: "Why would anyone use a faulty replacement?" Wesley asked in "Samaritan Snare." This story explores the faults behind Jean-Luc Picard's parthenogenetic implant and reveals the lessons learned.
1. Chapter 1

**Heart Sounds**

**Author's Note:** This was written under another pseudonym and published in _Eridani 11_ in 1990. It was written several years before the TNG episode "Tapestry," so there are some differences.

**Disclaimer:** The crew of the _Enterprise_ doesn't belong to me.

"Breathe deeply." Beverly Crusher moved her med-scanner to the left side of the captain's chest. "Again," she instructed.

Picard inhaled, then exhaled slowly.

"One more time."

"Doctor," he started to protest.

"One more time." Her voice was firm.

Picard grimaced, but did as he was told.

Crusher adjusted the scanner, and it began to emit a low thumping sound. Picard frowned up at her. "I thought that thing was silent."

Crusher shook her head. "Doesn't have to be...although I rarely increase the volume."

Picard eyed her suspiciously.

"You have a very unique heartbeat," she answered his unspoken question, pulling the instrument away from his body and placing it on the table beside her. "My instruments give me accurate visual readouts, but sometimes I just like to listen to the unusual rhythm of it."

Picard smiled. "I suppose I've grown used to it."

"That's understandable."

"Thank God the new replacement sounds just like the old one," he remarked. "I'd hate to have to get used to another heartbeat."

"I can assure you that this one will last as long as you do."

"Thank you, Doctor. That's comforting."

Crusher turned away and entered information into the computer behind her. "Barring any Nausicaans," she murmured.

"I beg your pardon?" Picard asked, although he was fully aware of what she'd said.

Crusher looked back over her shoulder. "Wesley told me about your trip to Starbase 515 last year." She frowned slightly. "I hope the story of your encounter with the Nausicaans wasn't a secret."

"No, of course not," Picard answered. "It's just not something I talk about a lot."

Crusher turned around and crossed her arms in front of her. "I didn't think so. Thank you for sharing it with Wesley. It meant a lot to him."

"It meant a lot to me too." He smiled. "He's growing into a fine young man, Beverly. He reminds me of Jack."

She returned his smile. "I know. I'm very proud of him."

"You have reason to be."

They stared at each other for several moments. There had been a time when neither of them could mention Jack's name in the other's presence. But things had changed. Especially their feelings for each other. And Beverly Crusher had found herself caring a great deal for this man. Just as she knew he cared for her.

Reluctantly, she broke away from his gaze. "Well," she said, returning to the subject at hand, I'm happy to report that you are in excellent condition. Except..."

Picard eyed her warily. "Except what?"

"When was the last time you had a well-balanced meal? One where you actually sat down to eat it?"

Picard sighed. She had him there. For the past couple of weeks he'd been existing on tea and tuna sandwiches, gulped down hastily in his ready room. He hung his head in mock despair. "Guilty," he mumbled.

"Just as I thought."

"You know, we could remedy this situation," he suggested, a grin tugging at his lips.

"We could?" Crusher arched an eyebrow at him.

"Dinner, my quarters, twenty-one hundred hours."

"Just the two of us?"

"I wasn't planning on inviting anyone else." His voice was low. "Were you?"

~vVv~

"You look lovely tonight," Jean-Luc gazed at her from across the candle-lit table.

"I know," Beverly replied. "This is the third time you've told me."

He blinked. "Really?"

"I don't mind. I like hearing it."

Jean-Luc smiled. He couldn't take his eyes off her. "I'm so accustomed to seeing you in that damned blue lab coat, I find it a rare pleasure to look at you now."

"You don't like my blue lab coat?" Beverly pouted playfully.

Jean-Luc pursed his lips, as in deep thought. "I love that blue lab coat," he announced after a moment's deliberation.

Beverly laughed. "I think this conversation is digressing."

"Yes," Jean-Luc agreed, although he couldn't remember what they'd been talking about before. "But you do look very lovely."

"And you look very handsome." She studied him. "Did you know there is a direct correlation between what you wear and how you act?"

"Is there?"

She nodded. "You're always a bit...buttoned up in your uniform."

He reached up and fingered the open collar of the grey silk shirt he was wearing. "And how do I act now?"

"More unbuttoned," Beverly answered quietly.

Jean-Luc cleared his throat and pushed himself back from the table. "I take on a lot of responsibility when I put on that uniform," he said as he stood and walked over to the food dispenser. Beverly's eyes followed him.

"But you never really take that responsibility off."

"No starship captain ever should."

"I know." Beverly rose from her chair and moved over to the viewports.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Jean-Luc inquired.

"Yes, please," she answered as she settled herself on the sofa.

He addressed the dispenser. "Tea, Earl Grey, hot. Two cups."

The cups of steaming, amber liquid appeared, and Jean-Luc picked them up and carried them over to Beverly. He offered her one.

"Thank you," she said as she took the cup from him. She took a hesitant sip as Jean-Luc sat down next to her and relaxed against the cushions.

"How is it?" he asked.

"It's perfect." She smiled at him. "Dinner was wonderful, Jean-Luc."

"Yes, it was," he agreed. "But more importantly, it was well balanced. And we ate it sitting down."

"It's already helping to improve your physical condition," Beverly responded. "You're starting to get some color back in your cheeks."

"That, dear Doctor, is not from dinner, but rather from the company I've been keeping."

"Oh, I see." She slipped her shoes off and pulled her legs up on the sofa, tucking them to one side. She brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "You owe me a story," she said.

"I do?" Jean-Luc took a long sip of his tea.

"Yes. What happened after the Nausicaans?"

"As I told your son, Beverly, I was no hero."

She shook her head. "I don't want to hear about Jean-Luc Picard the Hero. I want to hear about the opinionated, impetuous young man you once were."

"Once were? Umph." He stared at her. "I like to think I'm still somewhat opinionated."

"True, but you're not quite as impetuous."

"Nor am I quite as young," he added, stretching his legs and propping his feet on the coffee table in front of them. "So, where do you want me to start?"

Beverly sighed. "Let's see. Why don't you pick up where you left off with Wesley?"

~vVv~

The three Nausicaans had started it. Of that, there was no doubt. They'd purposefully blocked the young officers' way in the middle of the dusty road.

Trenton O'Dell had instinctively taken a step back. He was familiar with their aggressive nature, and was in no mood to provoke them. Tay Kusatsu and David Craig, he noted, had also moved away, giving the trio a wide berth. But Trenton groaned inaudibly when he saw Jean-Luc Picard stand his ground, shoulders squared.

"Jean," Trenton hissed under his breath, "not now."

Their shore leave wasn't very long, and he didn't want to waste any of it on a brawl.

"Out of my way, Human," the largest Nausicaan rumbled.

"I beg your pardon," Jean-Luc's accent was even more clipped than usual.

"I said out of my way, you pasty-faced, Starfleet maggot."

"I think not, you half-brained, galactic moron. Surely you and your fellow beasts can find your way around us. And then perhaps you can return to that garbage dump of a planet that you call home. Now, out of my way, you bastard."

Great. Trenton shook his head. Jean-Luc liked words, and had the uncanny ability to use them at the wrong time.

The Nausicaans looked at each other, emitted a low growl, and suddenly all three of them were on Jean-Luc, and Trenton's dread of a brawl turned into a nightmare of a full-fledged fight. For a few moments, all any of them could do was stare at the mass of struggling arms and legs. Surprisingly, Jean-Luc was holding his own, actually doing quite well. But he couldn't keep it up indefinitely. Trenton strode into the fray, trailed by Tay and David. He'd just grabbed one of the Nausicaans by the shoulder when it happened.

~vVv~

It was a curious sensation actually. Not much pain. Just shock at the sight of serrated metal sticking through his chest. A certain, giddy warmth, and Jean-Luc Picard laughed out loud.

In that instant, before they realized what had actually happened, Jean-Luc saw his mates staring at him, wide-eyed. Even the Nausicaans stood motionless. But only for a moment. As Jean-Luc pitched forward onto the ground, a flurry of activity broke out around him. David kicked the weapon out of the Nausicaans's large hands, while Trenton and Tay went after the remaining two. The ensuing struggle lasted only a few seconds before Starfleet Security appeared, phasers drawn. The Nausicaans, suddenly docile, were led away.

Trenton knelt down beside Jean-Luc and gently lifted him up. He cradled his unconscious body against his shoulder. David slapped his communicator.

"Starbase Earhart. Medical emergency. Four to beam up."

Thankfully, there was no delay, and the group was instantaneously caught up in the shimmering effect of the transporter beam. Within seconds, they were gone, and the only thing left was a puddle of blood in the dust.

~vVv~


	2. Chapter 2

Jean-Luc awoke to a feeling of discomfort. No pain, but heaviness across his chest. He knew instinctively that he couldn't sit up, so he didn't try. Instead he looked down and saw the intricate life support system covering his body. A spasm of fear shot through him.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of someone standing near his bed. He tried to speak, but the words were barely a whisper. Still, the person came closer and leaned over him. The lower portion of the face was covered by a sterile mask, but the eyes above it were a warm brown.

"Shhh. Don't try to talk." The voice was soft and calm. "Can you hear me?"

Jean-Luc nodded.

"That's good." The woman pressed a wet cloth to his lips. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you drink any fluids right now."

Blessedly though, a few drops of moisture trickled into his mouth, down his dry throat.

"You're going to be all right," she continued. "My name is Hope, and I'll stay with you." She gently brushed his thinning, dark hair back from his forehead. "You just rest now."

~vVv~

The three of them sat together; a patchwork quilt of bruises and abrasions. They had not yet changed out of their dusty uniforms, but they had been examined by a medic and debriefed by the first officer of their ship, the U.S.S. _Forrestal_ .

The Nausicaans had not denied the charges against them, and so there would be no formal hearing. But Jean-Luc would have hell to pay when he got better. If he got better, Trenton O'Dell thought to himself for the millionth time.

The weapon had pierced Jean-Luc's heart; the attending surgeon had told them as much. But of course, Trenton had known that from the moment he'd lifted his friend off the ground. He rubbed his palms nervously against his thighs, impatient to be of some use. And yet, he knew there was nothing he could do.

Trenton was the newest, youngest surgeon on the _Forrestal_, with only a year's practical experience behind him. He was, unquestionably, the best, most talented physician to come out of Starfleet Medical Academy in the past decade. And he knew it. But it wasn't something he was cocky about. He quietly accepted the fact that he was damned good at what he did. And he didn't have to try to convince others. As the saying went, his actions spoke louder than words.

But here, he was out of his league. The damage to Jean-Luc's heart was beyond his present capability to repair, but although the medical facility at Earhardt was small, there were some fine, experienced surgeons on staff. And he was counting on them to pull his best friend through.

"Some leave," David Craig mumbled from the other side of the waiting room. "I always told him that big mouth of his was going to get him in trouble one of these days."

"Yeah," Tay added, "but whoever thought it'd get him damn near killed."

Apparently none of us," Trenton sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "We should have kept him out of it."

"Trenton," Tay looked over at him. "Blaming ourselves isn't going to help him. And besides, we couldn't have kept him out of it even if we'd tried. You know how Jean-Luc is."

Trenton nodded tiredly in agreement. Tay was right. He did know how Jean-Luc was: loud-mouthed, opinionated, occasionally undisciplined. For a long time, at the beginning of their friendship, he couldn't understand why he acted that way. Jean-Luc was smart, bright, top of his academy class. He had all the earmarks and makings of an excellent Starfleet officer, bound to make captain before the age of thirty-five. Over the years, though, Trenton had figured his friend out. Jean-Luc was in a hurry. Almost too eager to succeed, and rise in the ranks. Time ran too slowly for him, made him impatient. He longed for adventure, confrontation, discovery. And he vented his frustration in those less desirable aspects of his personality.

"He's going to be all right," David said, as he walked over and sat down on the sofa next to the other two men. "Jean-Luc's a fighter."

"That's what got him into this predicament," Trenton sighed, his mind reliving the fight. Seconds. He'd only hesitated a matter of seconds, but Trenton knew he would be haunted the rest of his life by the realization that his hesitation could have claimed Jean-Luc's life. He stood and began to pace the length of the room. "A parthenogenetic implant," he murmured, as he thought aloud to himself.

"A what?" Tay looked up at him.

"A parthenogenetic implant," he repeated. "They'll have to use one if they can't repair the damage to his heart."

And he'd been right. Jean-Luc's doctor came to them a half hour later.

"The damage is too great." Doctor Kingsley sat across from them, elbows on knees, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. "We'll have to replace his heart with a parthenogenetic implant. Luckily we have one available here at the base. They're not easy to come by."

Trenton nodded, but Tay and David looked confused.

"Why are they so rare?" David questioned. "Can't they be replicated?"

"Unfortunately, no," Kingsley answered. "The technology is much too sophisticated. But, like I said, we're in luck. We have one here."

"When will you perform the surgery?" Trenton asked.

"In the morning. I want to wait until he's good and stable."

"Can we see him?" Tay queried.

Kingsley shook his head. "It'd be best if you waited. In fact, the three of you should report back to your ship and get some rest."

"I'm a doctor, sir," Trenton told him. "I'd like to stay."

"All right, but you two..." he shifted his gaze.

"We'll go," David said as he and Tay stood up. He glanced down at Trenton. "You'll keep us informed?"

"You know I will."

~vVv~

Another face, another pair of eyes above a mask. Only Jean-Luc knew these eyes. Had stared into them over many a poker table.

"Trent," he whispered.

The face leaned in closer. "Hey there, buddy," he said softly. Since he was a doctor, Kingsley had given him permission to see Jean-Luc for a few minutes. "You're gonna be all right."

Jean-Luc stared up at him, disbelieving. That's all any of them said: Hope, the doctor, and now Trenton. Well, he didn't feel all right.

"What... happened?" he murmured, his eyes searching Trenton's face for an answer. But all he saw there was fear, fear that intensified his own. Tears filled Jean-Luc's eyes.

"Hey, it's not that bad," Trenton lied as convincingly as he could. He gently placed a hand on Jean-Luc's face, his fingers wiping away the tears on his cheeks. "They're going to operate in the morning, fix you up, and before you know it, you'll be out of here, as good as new."

He was bluffing. Jean-Luc could tell. Saying all those pretty words, but not believing them himself. Like holding a pair of threes against a full house.

"Scared," Jean-Luc admitted tiredly, feeling dark sleep reaching out, overtaking him again. He drifted towards it.

"I'm here," Trenton assured, his hand still on Jean-Luc's cheek. It was the only place he could touch him, for the life support system covered him from the shoulders down. And that touch was important. A bit of warmth in the midst of cold technology.

~vVv~

Trenton had studied Van Doren's technique at medical school, but he spent most of the night reacquainting himself with it. Doctor Kingsley had given him the use of a small office next to the main lab, as well as a room down the corridor.

He'd suggested again that the young doctor get some much needed rest, but Trenton was too keyed up to sleep.

He studied the procedure carefully, mentally taking Jean-Luc step by step through the process. He anticipated what could go wrong at each phase, and determined what a good doctor would do to counter the problem. He'd replaced Jean-Luc's heart a dozen times in his mind when sleep finally overtook him, and his head dropped down heavily towards the desk, cushioned by his arm.

~vVv~


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading and reviewing!

The smell woke Trenton before the alarm did. He bolted from the office. Thick grey smoke filled the lab; on the opposite side, orange tongues of flame licked at the ceiling. The alarm was ringing, blaring, but the computer wasn't extinguishing the blaze.

"Trenton!" Kingsley appeared at the main door across from him, flanked by two Security officers. "There's been a computer malfunction," he cried, as the Security officers pushed past him, both wielding hand-held extinguishers.

Already, Trenton was coughing convulsively, the heavy smoke burning his lungs, his eyes watering. He stumbled towards the door, was almost there when he remembered. The implant. It was in a case, sitting on a shelf, on the opposite side of the room. He turned around. The blaze was growing despite the efforts of the Security men. But miraculously, on the other side, the cabinet that held the implant was still untouched by the flames, although they were pressing in quickly. In a split second, Trenton had found an opening in the fire line.

"Trenton, no!" Kingsley shouted, realizing his intention.

But he ignored the doctor's voice, shot through to the other side, fire reaching out, singeing his arms and legs. The smoke and heat were unbearable, and he felt as if he were choking to death. But he got to the cabinet, reached up, took hold of the case that held the implant. It was hot to the touch, painful, but he took it down, wrapped his arms around it, shielded it as best he could. He turned around to make his way back through, and found himself surrounded by the fire.

Through the blaze he could see the security officers still battling the flames with the small extinguishers. It was a losing battle.

"Run straight through," one of them yelled. They both directed the extinguisher's spray at the same place.

Trenton struggled to breathe, and then jumped through the flames, and somehow reached the other side, safe he thought. But just at that moment the fire reached a row of chemicals on a lab table. There was an explosion. The security officers were thrown back off their feet, and Trenton was knocked to the ground, the case flying from his arms. He was sprawled flat on the floor, no more than five feet from the door, the case in front of him. He started to crawl towards it, but he couldn't move. It was then that he felt the intense pain in his right arm. He squinted through the smoke, and just before he lost consciousness, he saw a portion of the nine foot ceiling beam that had fallen onto his arm.

~vVv~

Jean-Luc pushed at the pillows behind his back and winced. The movement pulled the muscles across his chest, and the long incision, which ran from just below his throat to his naval, was still tender. It would heal in a few days, and there would be no trace of it ever having been there. It would fade away just like the smaller scars across his heart and back. The miracles of modern medicine. He frowned slightly.

It didn't seem quite fair, to rob a man of his scars. After all, he had earned them, even if it was through his own stupidity. Thousands of years ago they'd have been marks of a warrior, worn proudly. Jean-Luc sighed. It was just as well. He didn't think of himself as a warrior. An explorer, yes. Warrior, no. And if he ever got shore leave on Earth again, Maman would be frightened by the sight of them. She already worried about him, out here on the edges of the universe, as she was fond of saying. He was still debating with himself whether to tell her about this injury at all.

He looked up when the door to his room opened. Trenton O'Dell stuck his head in. "Up for a visitor?"

"Only if she's female."

"Afraid you're out of luck." Trenton came further into the room, his right arm encased in bandages, held securely against his body by a sling.

"What the hell happened to you?" Jean-Luc inquired.

Trenton shook his head. "Hey, I fought those Nausicaans too. Not all of us can lose a heart." He walked over and sat down in the chair next to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Are Tay and David all right?"

"They're fine. They came to see you yesterday, but you were asleep."

Jean-Luc sighed. "I was pretty tired for a while. Now I'm just bored." He glanced around the room. "And ready to get out of here."

"Whoa. Slow down, buddy. It's not like you fell and skinned your knee. You had us really scared there."

Jean-Luc wrinkled his forehead. "I guess it was a little stupid of me to stand up to those Nausicaans."

Trenton's eyes widened. "I wouldn't say it was a little stupid. I would say it was a lot stupid."

Jean-Luc grinned. "Hey, don't be so rough. It's not like I asked one of them to run a damn sword through me."

"I know," Trenton said. "How's the new heart?"

Jean-Luc frowned. "It's a... peculiar feeling." He ran a hand lightly over his chest. "I can feel it beating in there. It's so mechanical."

"No it's not, Jean-Luc." Trenton's voice was firm. "It's your heart now, and you've got to think of it that way."

He rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. Kingsley already gave me the 'love your heart' routine."

"And you have to slow down," Trenton added.

"Why? He says this heart's better than my real-" He caught himself. "My old one," he corrected himself.

"It is, but..." Trenton reached out with his left hand and touched his friend on the arm. "You don't have to be in such a hurry, Jean-Luc."

He narrowed his eyes at Trenton. "What do you mean?" he asked hesitantly.

The look on Trenton's face softened. "I know what you want. What you're reaching for. Trust me; it'll still be there when you're ready for it. Everything has its time, Jean-Luc. There's no reason to rush it."

Jean-Luc swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm always afraid that I'm not going to be what it is I'm supposed to be." He looked at Trenton. "Do you understand?"

Trenton nodded. "I understand, Jean-Luc." _More than you know_, he thought. "Someday you'll be captain of your own ship; I can guarantee you. But that's tomorrow, and you've got to learn to let tomorrow take care of itself."

Jean-Luc sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't learn things too easily. You're going to have to keep reminding me."

Trenton lowered his eyes and stared at the floor. "I won't be able to," he said. He looked back up. "I've been reassigned. They're sending me back to Earth."

"They're what?"

"Hey," Trenton shrugged, "remember, I'm the boy genius. They need me back at Starfleet Medical."

Jean-Luc shook his head. "Damn, Trent, I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too." He stood up. "And now I'm going to get out of here before we get overly sentimental." He walked over to the door and looked back. "Take care of that heart, Jean-Luc."

"I will. Take care of yourself."

"I'll try."

~vVv~

Jean-Luc sighed deeply. "And that, I suppose, is the end." He looked down at Beverly. During the telling of his story, she had snuggled closer to him, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped warmly around her. "I didn't hear about the fire in the lab until several months later. Didn't find out till then how severe his injury had been."

"I knew Trenton O'Dell," Beverly murmured.

Jean-Luc nodded. "He died five years ago. Shuttle bay explosion aboard the Aldrin." He supplied the facts in a monotone.

"I heard." Beverly rubbed her hand along his shoulder, hoping to ease some of the tension she felt there. "He was one of Starfleet's best medical researchers," she offered.

"Would have been one of the best surgeons, but the last life he saved was mine," Jean-Luc said remorsefully.

"Oh, no." Beverly pulled away so she could look at him better. "Trenton saved thousands of lives by finding cures to half a dozen diseases."

He sighed. "I know. But his dream was to be a surgeon, and because of me..." His voice trailed off, and he leaned his head way back, rubbing his eyes. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly and stared at the ceiling. "They replaced my heart, but they weren't able to repair the nerve damage in Trenton's arm. At least not sufficiently enough to allow him to continue being the promising young surgeon he was." He raised his head and looked down at Beverly. "He sacrificed his career for my life. How do you ever repay someone for that?"

Beverly took hold of his hand and squeezed it. "By making the most of that life. Something you have definitely done."

Jean-Luc gazed at her, felt himself getting lost in her eyes. He pulled her closer and buried his face in the flame of her hair. The sweet scent of her stirred his emotions, made him feel things he'd never felt, and say things he could never say to anyone except her.

He pulled back, just far enough so that their eyes met. "Sometimes," he murmured,"I look at you, and my heart skips a beat."

Beverly laughed softly, pressed her ear to his chest. "Jean-Luc," she whispered, "your heart always skips a beat."

~The End~


End file.
